


We Gladly Feast

by twoseas



Category: Hannibal (TV), The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Canon-Typical Content, F/M, Getting Together, Hannibal and Will end up channeling big Morticia and Gomez vibes, Happy Ending, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Takes place in season 1, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Will Graham Doesn't Need Help, Will Graham is an Addams, but he likes making it seem like he does, for once Hannibal is the one swept along in a wave of confusion, he spends most of this confused, the rest is him being VERY into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: It begins with a murder. And ends with a kiss.When Hannibal meets Will's aunt and uncle at a crime scene, he feels the need to extend a dinner invitation to the loving couple. Hannibal has always known Will to be unique, but when dinner reveals startling new truths about the other man, his obsession becomes something more than love. And Hannibal has never been one to pass up on a good thing.





	We Gladly Feast

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of the new movie's trailer being released and to feed my own love for the Addams family and Hannibal, I present to the world my very own Addams Family/Hannibal AU! 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

**Meet the Family**

 

Hannibal admired the display while awaiting Will’s arrival. The others were busy doing their jobs, Ms. Katz taking photos while making a barely suppressed noise of approval. Jack shot her a look that she ignored, far more concerned with her camera lens than her boss’ disapproval. The tableau was undoubtedly beautiful, resonating with a passion for the craft - both in the killing and posing of the corpse. The amoral judge who so often let the most heinous offenders off with barely a slap on the wrist was strung up and burned in a way reminiscent of several etchings on the torture and burning of witches. Despite the lack of subtlety, Hannibal could appreciate the clear and direct message as well as the clean execution - so to speak.

“Any parts missing?” Jack asked, brow lowered and mind no doubt ringing with thoughts of the Ripper. 

“One,” Price noted. “But, uh, we found it.”

The scientists all looked to the burnt corpse’s mouth. 

Jack winced. “Ah.”

Will arrived a moment later, passing through the perimeter of law enforcement with little issue. He looked particularly worn, the shadows under his eyes heavy from the lack of sleep. Hannibal bestowed a welcoming smile on the profiler while the others greeted him with waves or short hellos. Will nodded at them all in return before gracing Hannibal with a wobbly smile. Then he froze, eyes widening when he took in the tableau laid before them. 

Hannibal expected Will to plunge into his imagination, to repeat the murderous performance within his mind, turning back time and experiencing the act in a way only the murderer themselves ever enjoyed. It was always such an evocative thing to watch.

What he did not expect was the genuine joy that suffused the man’s tired features, turning them nearly angelic. 

“I have to go,” he said at once, turning his back on the team and the murder scene. Jack barked after him twice, expression going from irritated to concerned when Will didn’t mind him in the slightest.

“Doctor Lecter, could you?” Jack tossed his hand towards the retreating profiler, his frustration and worry intermixing to form an interesting sort of helplessness only men like Jack could possess. 

“Of course, Jack.” 

Hannibal had no intention of not following, that was certain. 

He cut through the crowd of law enforcement and forensics, his eyes tracking Will’s back. The man expertly sidestepped people, moving past the small herd of sightseers with ease and purpose. He strode all the way out to a cluster of trees, stopping when he reached a couple seated on a park bench. 

Hannibal tilted his head as the couple rose up from their seats. They stood out in the bright autumnal daylight, both clothed in timeless but uncommon formal wear. The woman was dressed in a form fitting black gown, the man in a black and white striped suit. The woman carried a black lace parasol, shading herself from the sun and dappling her features in an intricate pattern of filtered light. 

“Darling,” purred the woman’s lovely, low voice as she stepped forward with preternatural grace, her floor length dress uncreased. She held out her hands, blood red nails perfectly matched to her lipstick. “Let us get a look at you.”

“Aunt Morticia!” Will immediately walked into her grasp and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. When she stepped away, he took his glasses off and met her gaze unwaveringly. “You could have called.”

“Where’s the fun in that, old boy!” The mustachioed man clapped a firm hand on Will’s shoulder before his eyes snapped onto Hannibal. “And who is this well dressed gentleman?”

Will looked back with a confused frown that instantly cleared. He didn’t seem surprised or upset at Hannibal’s presence, instead tipping his head in welcome. “Doctor Lecter. These are my aunt and uncle, Morticia and Gomez Addams.”

Hannibal took the last few steps necessary to join the group while doing his best to hide his shock and confusion at the turn of events. “A pleasure to meet you,” he supplied graciously. 

“Doctor Lecter?” Morticia looked him up and down quickly, her smile enigmatic. “How wonderful to meet you at last.”

“We’re great admirers of yours,” Gomez chipped in heartily. 

“Not nearly as enamoured of your work as Will,” Morticia continued with a placid slyness. “But admirers nonetheless.”

Hannibal frowned ever so slightly, his confusion sprouting into concern.

“Aunt Morticia,” Will groaned. 

“Come now,” she chastised. “Surely the good doctor must know how much you adore him?”

Hannibal’s eyes widened.

“You’re the only one with the ability to appreciate such nuance.” Gomez raised a passionate fist, “Such complexity!”

“Please, stop,” Will grunted. 

Morticia dipped her head. “Alright, but only because we’ve missed you so. How are you, darling? You look terrible.”

She spoke the last three words with relish. 

“Are you ill?” Gomez inquired bluntly. 

“Encephalitis,” Will admitted with a well pleased shrug of his shoulders. 

Hannibal blinked, jaw going slack enough for his lips to part. 

A manic light filled Gomez’s eyes. “Encephalitis! You lucky dog you. Tish, remember my bout?”

“The fever,” she crooned. “The ranting madness.”

“Headaches?” Gomez asked with a fervent curiosity. “Seizures?”

“And sleepwalking,” Will confirmed. “Hallucinations too.” 

“Hallucinations with your mind,” Gomez closed his eyes in vicarious ecstasy. “Absolutely stupendous!”

Morticia leaned towards Hannibal with a conspiratorial smirk. “Gomez has always been partial to encephalitis. We only cured him when he asked if I was a demoness there to seduce and drain him. It’s not like Gomez to forget.”

“Will, my boy, we’ve so much catching up to do,” Gomez asserted heartily. He looked over Will and Hannibal’s shoulders. “But I see you’ve work to be doing. Need to catch those killers, eh?”

Gomez waggled his eyebrows in a near comic show of enthusiasm.

Will snorted and cast a dismissive glance to where Jack now waited for them, an impatient expression on his face. “Please, Uncle Gomez. I’d recognize the work you two have done anywhere.”

“We couldn’t resist,” Morticia laughed airily. She placed her hand on her husband’s forearm while looking to Will expectantly. “Shall we have dinner? Tomorrow night, perhaps?”

“Cousin Itt recommended a place,” Gomez added in. 

While Will nodded amenably, Hannibal found it within himself to intercede. “Pardon me if this is too forward, but might I suggest an alternative?”

The three of them awaited his suggestion with open interest. 

“Dinner at my home,” Hannibal continued smoothly. “An intimate meal between family and friends as opposed to one among strangers. I have a passion for the culinary arts and I’ve been doing my best to persuade Will into joining my table as often as possible. I’d be happy to include you both as well.”

“Oh.” Morticia’s gasp was genuine despite the subdued quality to it. “How wonderful. You’re certain we won’t be imposing?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal assured her. He pulled out a business card and pen before neatly writing his address on the back. “Shall we say seven?”

Morticia accepted the card with a dip of her head.

“Then it’s settled.” Gomez rubbed his hands together fiendishly. 

“Until tomorrow evening, Doctor Lecter,” Morticia bid farewell. Her expression softened when she kissed Will’s cheek goodbye. “See you soon, my darling.”

The couple turned away and left, Gomez offering his arm to his wife as they did so. She took it with the same unhurried poise with which she walked. 

“Well, Doctor Lecter,” Will said, ready to return to the scene and Jack. “I suppose we’ll see each other tomorrow night for dinner.”

 

**In Which Dinner is a Revelation**

 

Hannibal readied the dinner for four as well as he could in the time allotted. It was too short notice to procure fresh meat, but Hannibal’s freezer was well stocked and he knew how to cook frozen to its best advantage. While he worked on the meal as well as the centerpiece, a fine construction of flower, bone, and whole pomegranates, his mind thrummed with new information and possibilities. There was something he was missing, something fundamental about Will and his family. Hannibal needed to know, once more drawn towards Will in a way that felt like fate. 

His musings were interrupted by a knock at his door and Hannibal answered with a pleased smile. “Will.”

“Doctor Lecter.” Will handed him a bottle of wine, a surprisingly good vintage that would pair well with dinner. 

“Thank you, Will. This is perfect. Please, come in. Allow me to take your coat.”

As he did so, Hannibal leaned in and sniffed. He paused, taken aback. The fevered sweetness of Will’s encephalitis was gone. 

“Problem, Doctor Lecter?” Will spun on the spot, an amused tilt to his lips. 

“Not at all,” Hannibal covered and deflected at once. “Dinner is nearly ready. Would you care for something to drink?”

“I don’t mind waiting for dinner,” Will shrugged. “My aunt and uncle should be here soon.”

As if summoned by the very mention, the bell rang in bright announcement of his guests. Hannibal opened the door to the couple, greeted not just by the newcomers, but by a sudden crack of lightning and the distant rolling of thunder. 

“Wonderful weather we’re having,” Morticia observed with a serene smile. 

“Doctor Lecter.” Gomez shook his hand energetically. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Wednesday is going to be green with envy,” Will noted dryly at Hannibal’s side. 

“She tried to extract a promise to get an autograph,” Gomez chucked. “But we told her how rude it would be. We’re guests, afterall!”

Gomez had no coat to hang, but Morticia dipped her head in thanks when Hannibal offered to remove the crushed velvet cloak from her shoulders. Her gown was as elegant as the day before. The silhouette was the same, but the fabric of this dress was studded in jewels that highlighted the ethereal paleness of her skin. 

Hannibal escorted his guests into the dining room, pulling out the chair for Will when it was quite clear that Gomez was an attentive husband to Morticia. Will raised his eyebrow as he took the proffered seat at Hannibal’s right hand, earning one of Hannibal’s genuine smiles. 

After explaining the meal, Hannibal took great pleasure in his guests’ obvious excitement. He waited until they all took their first bites, his eyes trained towards Will in particular. 

“Delicious!” Gomez declared with gusto. 

Will and Morticia savored their first tastes with quieter, but no less adamant, enjoyment and Hannibal felt satisfied enough to begin on his own plate.

“Doctor,” Morticia hummed after another bite. “You’ve told us what this is, but you’ve yet to explain who.”

Hannibal’s hand tightened on his knife, his eyes quickly darting towards Will. Will only graced him with a sibylline smile. 

“Pardon?” Hannibal tried, his jaw tensing as he considered the implications and his options.

Morticia looked between Will and Hannibal, a slight furrow between her sculpted eyebrows. “I’m afraid I’ve misstepped. Will, why didn’t you say you were still playing?”

Gomez looked upset, his neat mustache twitching. “Why not indeed? We would never have interfered had we known!”

Will just laughed their responses off in a low huff. “Really, it’s not a problem.”

“You’ve even rid yourself of your encephalitis.” Morticia’s carmine lips formed a moue of distress. “And before it reached its climax too. Now you’re the absolute picture of health. I’m sorry, darling.”

“Aunt Morticia,” Will grinned. “It’s perfectly alright. I’d gladly give up any game if it meant getting to share a meal from the Chesapeake Ripper with you both.”

Hannibal’s knuckles went white on his cutlery.

“You’ve always been so considerate,” Morticia cooed. 

Gomez beamed. “Your worst trait.”

“I know,” Will sighed dejectedly, taking another bite of his meal. 

When Morticia and Gomez followed suit, Hannibal’s grip loosened though his mind continued to race. 

“This is a truly fantastic meal,” Morticia complimented. “You have the skills of a master, Doctor.”

“Grandmama would kill for this recipe,” Gomez proclaimed with utter certainty. “Best not to tell her.”

“Hard to say who’d win there,” Will added with a considering hum. 

“It’s lovely to see someone else appreciate the culinary possibilities of cannibalism,” Morticia told Hannibal with an admiring slant to her smile. “So few do. There’s a time and place for the brutality of raw beating hearts clawed from between cracked ribs and torn flesh, of course.”

“But there’s something to be said for the elevation,” Will finished. 

“Just so,” Morticia affirmed. She met Hannibal’s forcibly neutral gaze with an open curiosity. “You’re a psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter?”

“Yes,” Hannibal managed to answer. 

“What do you make of our Will?” Gomez asked, smiling fondly at the aforementioned man. 

“Will is…” Hannibal struggled with the words, the situation having him at a peculiar disadvantage. “Extraordinary.”

Gomez nodded proudly. “We had the unique torture of looking after him for some time when he was a boy. He drove six psychiatrists mad before all the offices in the area stopped accepting our calls. I tried to send him upstate and he framed me for murder! The charges would’ve stuck if Morticia hadn’t asked him to exonerate me as a special favor to her. A brilliant frame up. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve sworn I did it myself.”

Will hid behind a long sip of wine.

“He gets it from his mother,” Morticia revealed. “Though I have to admit, his aptitude far exceeds her own. Perhaps you’ve heard of her, the Black Heart Killer?”

Gomez shook his head in admiring disbelief. “Fifty-eight confirmed kills.”

“And countless unconfirmed,” Will intoned sardonically. He followed up with an eye roll for good measure. 

“We haven’t heard from her since Will was born,” Morticia confided with a demure smile. “But we always collect the clippings when a body pops up in the news.”

Hannibal took a fortifying sip of wine. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” Gomez bobbed his head. “We’ve quite the scrapbook. Will likes to tear it up and set it on fire when he visits.”

“Lurch always puts it back together,” Will grumbled under his breath. “He keeps copies. I think he has a crush on her.”

“Not that you’ve visited enough to really destroy anything recently,” Morticia pointed out with a faintly stern set to her mouth. 

Will put his hands up defensively. “I write.”

Morticia and Gomez leveled him with unimpressed frowns that had Will grimacing.

Morticia took a moment to chew another bite and drink her wine. “Forgive us, Doctor. We’re being very rude, talking so much about ourselves.”

Will looked away from his family, attention fully on Hannibal.

“Not at all,” Hannibal argued, his gaze trapped by Will’s amusement, the other man’s eyes magnetic in their impish fervor. “I’m happy to learn more about Will and his family. He has quickly become one of my dearest friends.”

Morticia and Gomez shared a look, their lips turning up in secretive smiles. Will’s eyebrow arched heavenward. 

After a loaded silence full of tension but not awkwardness, Morticia picked up the conversation. “I see we’ve touched on some delicate subjects. So let us change them. Doctor Lecter, I see you’re a fan of Francois Boucher.”

She pronounced the artist’s name perfectly and her husband perked up.

Hannibal glanced at his painting of  _ Leda and the Swan  _ and ignored Will’s muffled laughter. “I am indeed. Are you an admirer yourself?”

“I’ve a great appreciation for the sensuality of the French. And Boucher’s mastery of the erotic...délicieux.” 

Morticia’s mouth quirked devilishly while Gomez looked to her like she was the moon and stars, his expression entirely besotted and more than a little aroused. 

Hannibal’s eyebrows came up, his expression as close to gawking as he came.

Will coughed into his napkin, the cough sounding suspiciously like more laughter. 

 

**An Interlude of Dishes**

 

Hannibal set the last dish to dry, his cleanup complete. And yet he felt restless and out of sorts, his composure cracked. There was so much to think about, to consider. And it all came back to Will Graham. 

Mind made up, Hannibal dried his hands and grabbed his keys. 

 

**Moonlit Beauty**

 

Wolf Trap looked different. Or perhaps Hannibal was only just now seeing it for the first time, the scales fallen from his eyes. The moon was full, the sky a patchwork of drifting, ominous clouds. An odd wind blew, rustling the rain dampened leaves in a whispered symphony. The house seemed to breathe the longer Hannibal looked at it and when he looked away the lights that shone from the windows flickered. The sense of being watched raised the hair at the back of his neck, a prickle at the corners of his awareness. Out at the treeline, a shadowy shape moved. Hannibal’s eyes were unable to make out the creature, only capable of distinguishing its large size and the suggestion of great antlers. 

Hannibal stood outside his car, his hands clenching and unclenching as a portentous feeling filled his chest. 

The barking of dogs rent the air and Hannibal watched as the dark figures of Will and his pack appeared from the trees. 

Hannibal walked to meet them. 

Will was dressed in his coat and scarf, his glasses nowhere to be seen. He walked with the languid grace of a predator at home, confident and poised.

“Doctor Lecter,” he greeted amiably. “What’re you doing all the way out here this time of night? And after I just left you too.”

Hannibal swallowed. He glanced down at the gamboling dogs. The smallest of Will’s pack looked up at Hannibal, body vibrating with excitement. What was most certainly a human metacarpal bone was clamped between its jaws. While most of the dogs sniffed and snuffled at Hannibal, Winston remained at Will’s side, licking his nose and watching Hannibal with intelligent eyes. The unique blackness of moonlit blood stained the muzzles and paws of all the pack. 

There were so many things Hannibal wanted to say, questions that ran through his mind. But what he asked, tone even, was, “How long have you known?”

Will licked his lips and hid his smile, ducking his head and walking off through the field. Hannibal followed. “About the encephalitis or about you?”

Hannibal looked down at their feet, at the dead leaves that littered the ground. They walked on and Will’s steps barely made a sound. “All of it.”

The chuckle Will let out was a soft exhalation. “The encephalitis I’ve known about since the headaches started.”

Though he wanted to question Will’s impossible recovery, he couldn’t help but prompt, “And me?” 

“You?” Hannibal could only see Will’s profile, but he could tell he was grinning. “I knew you were a killer the second I laid eyes on you. But I only knew you were the Chesapeake Ripper after you brought me breakfast.”

Hannibal’s leather gloves creaked as his hands curled into fists. “Why haven’t you said anything? Turned me in or informed Jack.”

“I don’t know, Hannibal.” Will drawled out Hannibal’s name, savoring the syllables as they rolled off his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me about my encephalitis? Why have you fostered my parental interest in Abigail Hobbs while ensuring her loyalty to you? Why is Miriam Lass still alive, but secreted away, kept on the shelf until the perfect moment to bring her out?”

Will turned to face him and Hannibal nearly took a gasping step back, would have if he didn’t have such superior control over his body. And yet his normally steady heart thudded, the pace something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Perhaps ever.

A slice of silver blue moonlight cut through the clouds, illuminating Will’s face in an elegant slash, his skin like starlit porcelain. His eyes, piercing in even the most mundane of situations, seemed to glow from within, penetrating deep into Hannibal’s heart and mind, tearing through his veneers and facades, clawing down to his soul. His very essence was Will’s to see, to peruse at his leisure. Hannibal had never felt so raw, so vulnerable and exposed. Or so powerful and known. 

“I suspect,” Will told him in a low, purring voice, “That you did all that for the same reason I planned to let my encephalitis run its course. The same reason I haven’t turned Abigail in for being an accomplice to those murders, the lure for her father. The same reason I let you meet my family and the same reason we’re out here talking, just you and me, rather than in an interrogation room with Jack Crawford and all the proof he’d ever need to charge you with being the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Because, Hannibal…” Taking a step forward, Will leaned in and whispered against Hannibal’s ear, “This is my design.”

Will pulled away, his eyes meeting Hannibal’s in a desperate, fervid gaze full of heat, full of frenzied want, full of savagery and awe and obsession.

The burgeoning longing that Hannibal felt since the moment his eyes caught Will’s burst forth into a vast sea of need. Hannibal now knew that the attachment he felt was far more than a controllable interest or attraction. He would slay any man in hopes of the slightest glimpse from Will. He would lay waste to whole civilizations and toss the bones of the defeated at this perfect creature’s feet if it meant Will would look at him like this always.

Hannibal moved in close only to be stopped by Will’s hand encircling his wrist. Hannibal watched in rapt attention as Will brought the captured hand to his mouth. For a moment Hannibal believed Will was going to press a kiss to either palm or pulse point, but instead the odd clang of metal on teeth reached his ears. 

Hannibal’s once hidden scalpel caught between his teeth, Will pulled away in a flash of silver and white. Never breaking eye contact, Will removed the blade from his mouth with all the delicacy one would use to handle a rose. Slowly, each movement telegraphed, Will slid the scalpel into Hannibal’s front pocket. He patted it soundly.

“Save that for the third date,” Will ordered in a husky murmur, his lips quirked in a playful twist.

Hannibal swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I feel as if I’ve been bewitched. Never before have I been so enthralled by another. You have no equal, dearest Will.”

Even as he spoke, the truth of his words ripped through his core. 

“Good. Because I have a confession to make.” Will’s brilliant eyes flashed with rapturous, wicked delight. “I find you very interesting, Doctor Lecter.”

Unable to resist temptation, Hannibal reached up and stroked Will’s cheek, his trembling fingers tracing over those unearthly features. He was worthy of the finest statuary, the paintings of the masters, of Paris and Florence and every other city shaped by art and beauty. 

“Caro mio,” he murmured into the air between them. 

Will’s smile was sharp, a baring of fangs from a beast Hannibal had just barely scratched the surface in knowing, but filled with real affection and wonder. 

Will closed the space between them, his lips brushing against Hannibal’s as he spoke. “Mon cher.”

Hannibal pressed in, his senses filled with the sight, scent, touch, and now taste of Will. 

What bliss. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Will, lounging against Hannibal and splattered in blood: Have I ever told you my family's credo?  
> Hannibal: No, my love.  
> Will: Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc. "We Gladly Feast on Those Who Would Subdue Us"   
> Hannibal: ...  
> Will: We take it very seriously.   
> Hannibal, with tears falling from his eyes: I have never been so happy in all my life


End file.
